


Catastrophic

by PaigeTurner



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner is not Nice, Dark Bruce Banner, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hulk is Okay Though, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Rape/Non-con Elements, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Truth Serum, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex, very dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeTurner/pseuds/PaigeTurner
Summary: Just an appalling dump heap, in which Bruce rapes Natasha and enjoys itMind the tags.Set shortly after Thor: the Dark World and Captain America: the Winter Soldier, leading up to and through Avengers: Age of UltronI kind of wrote this accidentally while I was trying to write three other things.As much as I love Mark Ruffalo’s version of Bruce Banner and the Banner/Hulk we got in the movies, I feel like a dark tone suits the character very well. I wanted to take the notion of Bruce and Dr Frankenstein and Hulk as the creature and fully explore the idea that the doctor is the monster.Presented without further apology
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Close Enough to Touch

**Author's Note:**

> First Chapter is innocent. No sex, no violence. Please don’t get into this thinking it’ll be fun and lighthearted.

NEW YORK

“I can’t believe Bucky’s alive,” Steve said softly.

“I can’t believe we missed out on fighting ice giants,” Natasha replied.

“Jotuns,” Thor clarified. “And not to worry, the others did Midgard proud.”

“Turns out they hate both repulsor blasts and incendiary arrows.” Clint grinned. He held out a hand towards Tony. 

Tony poured a drink. “Oh, shit, sorry, Barton.” He slapped Clint’s palm in a high-five.

“Better late than never.”

“Pretty sure I did more damage to the surrounding buildings,” Bruce muttered. He picked a bit of burnt cheese off the crust of his slice.

“Those buildings needed to come down anyway, they weren’t up to code,” Tony stated.

“You have absolutely no evidence to back up that statement,” Bruce objected. 

“You can’t prove otherwise.” Tony waved a glass in Bruce’s direction. “Drink?”

“I’m sure you didn’t do worse than Steve crashing a helicarrier into the Triskelion,” Natasha said. She tipped back her drink.

“You wanted me to crash the helicarrier.” Steve gestured emphatically with a slice of pizza. “The entire purpose of me being there was to crash those helicarriers.” 

“Not into the building I was occupying.” She rolled her eyes. “And not while you were on one.”

Clint snickered and folded a slice of pizza in half lengthwise. “Is it true you got your ass kicked by your best friend?” He shoved two-thirds of the slice into his mouth. 

Steve glared at him and sighed without answering.

“If you’re jealous, we could arrange something,” Natasha replied. She stood and stretched.

“Grab me another slice,” Clint mumbled while chewing. 

Natasha wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Cheese?”

Clint swallowed. “Is there any supreme left?”

She flipped open a couple of the boxes. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Cheese is fine.” 

Bruce quietly slipped out of the room. 

Natasha shoved the box in Clint’s direction. “Enjoy.” She headed toward the door. 

“Nice.” Clint finished his previous piece of pizza. “I’m stealing your seat.” Clint called after her, sprawling across the end of the couch.   
***  
“Hey.” 

Bruce looked at her and sighed. “Sorry, I’m not really in the mood for—” he gestured towards the living room, “all that.”

“I know.” 

“Four civilian casualties. And they’re still searching the rubble for survivors or bodies. Take a guess which one they’ll find more of.” 

Natasha grimaced. “How can I help?” 

“You can’t,” Bruce answered. “I’ve tried. Hulk’s under as much control as he’s ever been.”

“Tried what?” 

“You name it. Meditation. Drugs: legal ones, illegal ones, cocktails I mixed up myself. Those mushrooms from Chernobyl that feed on radiation.” Bruce walked to the window. “Which made me puke until I turned green, for the record. The best thing, the only thing, is isolation. I just want to be far enough away from anything that matters that when the other guy shows up, there’s nothing there for him to smash.” He stared out at New York. 

“And where’s that?” Natasha asked. “Especially when there are people actively trying to get closer to you.”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I don’t have all the answers.”

“It’s not a viable solution, Bruce.” Natasha stood next to him and leaned her back against the glass. “It’s also not much of a life. Maybe you both deserve better.”

“You have no idea what I deserve.” 

“Hypnosis?” Natasha suggested. 

“Tried it. I don’t have the patience for self hypnosis.” 

“I didn’t say self.”

“You going to dangle a shiny watch in front of the Hulk?” He barked a single harsh laugh. 

“Would you be open to trying it?” She craned her neck, trying to catch his gaze. “I think you’re smart enough to know you can’t get rid of the other guy,” she said softly. “Option A: he shows up when he wants, does what he wants, and leaves when he wants. Option B: you keep trying.”

He cut his eyes to her reflection and then to her. “He nearly killed you once already.” 

“Let me worry about that.” 

“That’s not how it works.” He inhaled slowly, chest filling from the diaphragm up. His jaw clenched. He sidestepped, trapping her between his body and the window. He pressed his palms against the glass on either side of her head. He stared into her eyes. “You’re afraid.” 

She stared back. “So are you.” 

The voice inside was quiet. Bruce took a step backwards and let his hands fall to his side. “How do we start?”

***

“Hulk is a dissociative state, right?” Natasha glanced up from her tablet. 

“Yeah.” Bruce didn’t look at her. He frowned at the book on the table in front of him. 

“Have you addressed the underlying trauma?” 

He put his pencil down forcefully. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mind created Hulk for a reason. It’s a trauma response, ninety-nine times out of a hundred. You’re not just always angry—“

“I’ve tried.” He sighed. “Trust me, I’ve tried. I’m still trying, actually.” He worried his lip with his teeth and picked up the pencil. 

“I know it’s hard,” Natasha said. 

He snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.”

They each turned back to their respective resources. Reading quietly. Occasionally jotting down a note. 

“So what has to happen for you to come back and Hulk to leave?” Natasha twirled her pen in her fingers.

“Exhaustion, usually. Which takes a lot of time and causes a lot of damage. It’s not easy to wear him out.” Bruce’s stomach growled. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. We could have something delivered?”

Bruce switched over from research to ordering dinner. They were eating when Natasha suddenly frowned.

“Did you say once that the transformation makes you nauseated?” 

He nodded. “Transforming is a huge calorie burn. I end up with that feeling when you’ve gone so long without eating that you passed hunger. My stomach hurts, but it’s too agitated for me to really eat, at least for a while.”

“If you knew ahead of time that it was going to happen, like if we could get this to work and you only brought Hulk out when you wanted to and planned to, could you load up on calories beforehand? Would it help?”

Bruce’s brow furrowed. “That idea has merit. It doesn’t really help with controlling the transformation, but it’s definitely worth something.”

“What about acupressure?” Natasha scribbled something in her notebook.

“Pretty much nothing can pierce his skin,” Bruce replied.

“Pressure, not puncture.”

“That requires you to get close to him.” He shook his head. 

“I’m okay with getting close to him. I think I might have something.”

Bruce frowned. “Close enough to touch is close enough to get killed.”

“Give me your hand.” Natasha held her hand out palm up and beckoned. 

“No.” 

Her shoulders dropped. She withdrew her hand. She picked up her tablet and turned back to reading. 

“Theoretically, you could put me into a hypnotic state and set up a conditional verbal trigger. The trigger should transfer to the other guy.”

“Do you want to come up with the phrase?” Natasha asked. “As long as you don’t make me say anything dumb.” 

“I’ll think about it. It’s pretty late. We can pick this up tomorrow?” Bruce began collecting the empty takeout containers. 

“Tomorrow’s good for me. I’ll cook, we can skip the delivery.”

“Sounds like a date.” Bruce smiled.

“Does it? You need to get out more, doc.”

***

“Smells fantastic.” Bruce took a deep breath as he unwound his scarf. 

“It’s almost done, but I can put it on low until we’re ready to eat.” Natasha emerged from the kitchen. 

“I should’ve asked if you needed me to bring anything.” He hung his coat by the door and turned towards her. He grinned. “That’s adorable.”

“What?” Natasha frowned.

“Your apron.”

She looked down. “I forgot I had it on.” She reached behind her back and untied the strings. 

“It’s cute. Are those butterflies?”

Natasha whipped the apron off and folded in half. “Do you have your phrase picked out?” 

“The sun’s getting low.”

She frowned and glanced toward the window.

“That’s the phrase,” Bruce said. “I was trying to think of something that would remind me that it’s, you know, time to settle down. Is it dumb?”

“It sounds great.”

It took weeks of late nights and dinners at Natasha’s apartment to get Bruce into a state where she could introduce the trigger phrase. 

“You’re a hard man to hypnotize,” Natasha teased. 

Bruce yawned. “Maybe I’m dragging this out because you’re such a good cook.” He rubbed his forehead. “It felt like it worked this time though. Didn’t it?”

“Might have something to do with it being nearly three am,” she replied. “But you did go under.” 

“And you introduced the phrase?” 

“Yep. You’ll cluck like a chicken any time someone says pina coladas.”

Bruce chuckled. “That’ll be interesting at Jimmy Buffett concerts.” He stretched. “Is it really three?”

Natasha looked at her phone. “Two fifty-four.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’ve got leave in an hour.”

She squinted at him. “Where are you going?” 

“Tony, uh, Tony’s building me a lab. We’re going to check on the construction.” 

“Oh.” Natasha’s eyes widened. 

“Yeah. He gives some extravagant gifts. I’m not even sleeping with him.” 

She laughed. “That might be to your advantage. I’ve seen the things he gives Pepper. Don’t you have a lab here in the tower?” 

“It’s a different lab,” Bruce replied. “You don’t want the levels of gamma radiation we’re talking about in a populated area.”

“I see.” 

“What we’re doing,” he gestured between them, “is treating a symptom. Hopefully, the lab will let me find a cure.” 

***


	2. A High Stress Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers are invited to Asgard.
> 
> They have a ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is also innocent.

“My friends, the Allfather has invited you to a feast.” 

Clint looked up. “Free food?” 

“You don’t pay for the food here,” Tony replied. “A feast, like, on Asgard? In Asgard? What’s the proper preposition here?” 

“Yes,” Thor said. “In Asgard. At the end of this week.” 

“No offense but, why?” Steve asked. 

“I have told him of all our exploits together. He’s deemed it safe enough for Asgard to host such an event.”

Bruce frowned. “We just got back.” 

“Your dad is finally taking an interest in meeting your friends, huh?” Tony nodded knowingly. 

“Something like that. Please?” Thor smiled. “It would mean a great deal to me.”

“Do we have to dress up?” Clint grumbled. 

***

Clint rolled his shoulders and tugged at the lapels of his jacket. “It’s too tight across my back.”

“It was literally tailor made for you,” Natasha replied. She brushed her hands over the tops of his shoulders. “Stop fussing with it.” 

“I’ve never seen you in a tux,” Tony remarked. 

“You’ve never invited me to anything fancy.” He pulled on his shirt cuffs. “Are the other two coming?” 

Tony let out a low whistle. “Yep.”

Steve froze in the doorway. “I should’ve gotten a tux.” 

“I think the dress blues are just fine,” Tony replied.

“Besides, if you had, I’d be the only one not wearing one,” Natasha said. “You wouldn’t want me to feel out of place.” 

“You got Banner into a tux?” Clint sounded impressed. 

“I bought him one,” Tony said. “I guess we’ll see what he shows up wearing.” 

Bruce stepped off the elevator a moment later, wearing a tuxedo but somehow still managing to look rumpled. He held up a strip of black. “I can’t get this stupid tie on. It’s crooked, or off-center, or asymmetrical.”

“You look good without it,” Tony remarked. “I might ditch mine.”

“If you want to wear it, I can tie it for you,” Natasha offered. 

“I feel like we could’ve worn leisure suits and the Asgardians wouldn’t know any different.” Clint began fiddling with his tie. 

“No one gave you permission to take that off,” Natasha said.

“If Bruce and Tony aren’t—“ Clint began. He stopped himself and frowned. “Why do I listen to you?” 

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t know, but you do, so I keep bossing you around.”

Bruce looked at the tie in his hand and then at Natasha. “What do you think?”

“This is going to be a high-stress situation for you. Do what makes you comfortable,” she advised. 

Bruce pursed his lips and tucked the tie into his jacket pocket. “Are we all ready?”

Clint sling-shotted his tie onto the credenza. “Let’s go.” 

***

ASGARD

“Thor tells me you’re quite the warrior,” Sif said. She eyed Natasha. 

Even in heels, Natasha couldn’t match her for height. “I’m a spy, not a soldier,” Natasha deferred. “I wouldn’t call myself a warrior.” 

Sif shrugged. “An army needs both. Don’t let them disrespect you.” 

“Oh, she doesn’t,” Clint remarked. 

“You’re Captain Rogers?” 

Clint nearly choked. “No, no, I’m Clint. Barton.”

“The archer!” Sif lit up. “Tonight isn’t the time or place, obviously, but I’d love a demonstration.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Thor says you’re very skilled.” 

“Really?” Clint puffed up a bit at the attention. 

“Then you must be Captain Rogers.” The Asgardian smiled at Steve. “I’m Fandral.” 

Long tables burdened with an abundance of food ringed a marble floor. Many of those seated with their backs to the floor had turned to watch the dancing that took place. 

“Would you honor me with a dance?” Odin held out his hand. 

Natasha drained her wine glass and set it on the table. “Of course, your majesty. The honor would be mine.” She smiled and stood. She curtsied as she took Odin’s hand. 

Bruce picked at the food. He wasn’t sure what most of it even was. 

Odin had his hand on Natasha’s waist. His fingertips just grazed her bare skin where the dress cut down low in the back. 

Bruce blinked slowly and tried to force his jaw to unclench. He felt like his stomach was full of bees. He reached for the glass. ‘Maybe a little less wine.’ The thought crossed his mind. He couldn’t get drunk, so what did it matter? 

Natasha smiled and dipped her chin, looking up at Odin through her lashes. 

Tony chatted with a tall woman in an elegant dress. Bruce slowly inhaled. He pressed his fingertips into his wrist. He counted and watched as Natasha gracefully commanded the dance floor. The music sounded discordant to him, but no one else seemed to notice. He was glad he hadn’t worn the tie. It was hard enough to breathe without it. He drained his glass. No sooner had he placed it on the table then a pretty blonde in a very low cut dress bent across the table to refill it.

A smattering of applause marked the end of the song. Odin put his hand on the small of Natasha’s back as they walked back to the table. “Thank you for humoring me,” he said. 

“I’ve never danced with a King before,” Natasha replied. 

“Well, if you wish to again, you know where to find me.” 

Natasha picked up her wine glass and drank deeply. 

“Nat!” Clint called. “Nat, come here, Lady Sif was just saying —“ 

Bruce groaned quietly. He propped his elbow on the table and let his chin rest on his hand. There were so many overlapping voices. Clint’s laugh as Sif grabbed his arm again. Steve swapping stories with Hogan and Fandral.

“—and there’s thunder rumbling —“

“—rosehips, really? Do you —“

“—a horse!” 

“So, I said —“ 

“Clint,” Natasha leaned in and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to turn in early.” 

He frowned at her. “But Odin—“

“I feel flushed, do I look flushed?” She asked. She touched her cheek, but her hands were just as warm as her face.

“You look beautiful, as always. I think the wine is kind of strong.”

Natasha nodded. “Maybe one glass too many.” She clutched his shoulder for support while she bent down to slip off her heels. Even barefoot, she stumbled a little as she made her way down the hall. 

Odin had graciously provided them each with a guest room. Far enough from the ballroom to be quiet. Or at least, quieter by half. Natasha stared at the identical doors. Her room was on the left. Or was it the right? Second on the left.  
She opened the door. Her overnight bag sat on a chair in the corner. She tossed her shoes towards the chair and they clattered noisily over the marble floor. 

She winced at the sound. “Shh!” She put a finger to her lips and glared at the shoes. Natasha turned to close the door, and stumbled. A pair of hands caught her.


	3. A Bitter Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loss of control (ARCHIVE WARNINGS APPLY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first scene I wrote, I re-wrote it about a thousand and a half times, and the rest of the story spiraled out from this point.
> 
> Graphic sexual violence. There is no fade to black. If you want the mercy cut, just skip this whole chapter. Read the AN at the end

“I want you.” Bruce’s voice crashed through the fog that seemed to surround her. 

Oh. Bruce’s hands. Her chin dropped, her head tipped forward. There were his legs. She craned her neck up. And there was his face. Natasha regained her balance and shifted her weight, trying to shrug off the look in his eyes. “I don’t—-“

He put his hand on her shoulder and gently brushed the strands of hair behind her back. “I’ve tried to pretend that I don’t.” He swallowed, the bob of his throat visible.

Natasha shivered. “I don’t feel well,” she whispered.

“But watching you tonight,” his voice soft and low, “ I want you in the worst way. I need you.” Lust dripped from his voice along with something darker, something desperate and dangerous. His fingers trailed up her neck, supporting her jaw as he kissed her. “Please.” He pressed his lips against hers again, more firmly. Natasha whimpered into his mouth. His hand travelled down her back, pulling their bodies together. 

He slipped his jacket off and let it fall to the floor, then wrapped his arms around her again. “I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispered. 

His stubble rasped against her skin. Teeth hid behind his kisses, nipping at her lips, her jaw, her throat. His fingers raked her flesh as he stripped her of her dress. The urgency stole her breath, drowning her in his need.

Bruce pushed her underwear to the floor and lifted her out of the puddle of clothing. He deposited her on the bed. He parted her legs, kneeling between them, and kissed her deeply. He hurriedly yanked his pants down far enough to free his painfully hard cock. 

“Bruce, wait, I don’t want—“

“You’re so beautiful.” He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside. 

They gasped in unison. She rocked her hips against him, adjusting as pain unfurled at the junction of their bodies.

He trembled as he kissed her again. He pulled back, nearly out, and then pushed back in with a moan. “That’s so good.” His lips brushed hers as he spoke. He took long strokes, slowly out and slowly back in, deeper with each thrust. 

The sting and stretch radiated through her, glowing like an ember. Natasha’s vision blurred. His weight pressed down on her. Her chest constricted. 

“Bruce,” Natasha whispered urgently. “Wait.” She put her hand on his hip. 

He plucked her hand from his hip and pinned her wrist to the mattress. Bruce moaned as he reached her depths. The head of his prick jabbed against her cervix; the walls of her cunt strained around his thick shaft. A wave of nausea roiled up from her sex to her throat. The bitter taste of bile flooded the back of her mouth. Her ears rang with a shrill, grating note, like a bow pressed too hard to the string of a violin. About to break. 

“Stop.” She choked on the words. “It hurts. I’m sorry, I can’t—“ Her thighs squeezed together to still him. 

“It’s fine.” 

For a moment, it seemed like it would be.

“You’re tense.” He shifted his weight slightly. “Relax.”

She shook her head. “Please,” she whispered. 

He eased back a little. Enough for her to draw a breath. His grip tightened around her wrist. “Please,” he echoed. “Nat.” A growl hid behind his plea. “Just try.”

Natasha squeezed her eyes shut. 

He released her wrist and slowly sank back into her. A faint smile crossed his lips. She opened her eyes to see it. 

“No,” she whimpered. 

He held her hips and bucked hard.

“No!” She put her palm against his chest and shoved. 

His hand flew. The force of the slap turned her head to the side. 

His hips pistoned. His hand hooked under her knee, pushing up toward her shoulder and out so that she couldn’t draw her legs together to resist. His palm was hot against the back of her leg. Flushed to match the heat blooming on her cheek. Her lungs refused to pull in air. Breathe. It won’t last forever. Her eyes stung; she blinked back tears. 

“That’s good,” he murmured. He leaned over her. “You’re so good to me, Nat.” He began to thrust in earnest. 

Natasha bit her lip, tasted blood, and kept silent.

Goosebumps broke out over her flesh. Her heart pounded as though it might burst. She inhaled slowly through her nose, the breath matching pace to the drag of skin against skin as he drew back. Breathing harder and harder as he moved faster and faster. Every thrust was more painful than the last. 

The ringing in her ears grew louder. And louder. Until at last, mercifully, the string broke. He came with a stuttering cry and collapsed on top of her, heavy, covered in a sheen of sweat. He kissed her collarbone as he pulled out. He rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms. “You’re wonderful.” He kissed her again. 

His embrace loosened. Bruce closed his eyes and let his head fall back. His throat was exposed. Natasha imagined a knife in her hand. She closed her eyes and imagined as hard as she could.

It did not materialize.

She lay very still until his breathing became slow and steady. When she was sure he was deep asleep, she silently slipped out of bed.

She dressed quickly. With her eyes on Bruce’s slumbering form and her knees shaking, she slowly opened the door. She stepped out into the corridor and pulled the door carefully shut. 

She headed away from the sounds of the party, still ongoing. She glanced over her shoulder at the door to her room, again and again. 

“Is everything all right?”

Natasha jumped. “Oh. I— shouldn’t you be at the festivities, your majesty?” 

“I needed a bit of a break. I’m not as young as I once was,” Odin replied with a chuckle. He looked at her and tilted his head slightly. Her hair was mussed, her makeup smudged. “Something is wrong. What is it?” 

“I’m not feeling well.” She crossed her arms over her chest. 

Odin smiled softly and touched her arm. “Tell me more.” 

Natasha recoiled from his hand. “Like I’m not in control of myself. And Bruce…”

Odin raised his eyebrows. “You’re not in control of him either?” The gentle smile became a smirk. His nose twitched as he inhaled deeply the smell of sweat and musk clinging to her. 

“He wouldn’t stop.” Her voice, high and thin, shook. “I told him he was hurting me but he didn’t care.” Natasha pressed her hand over her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut tight.

The king’s expression darkened. “He hurt you?” 

Her eyes opened wide. She nodded. A scream formed behind her hand and she clamped down tighter, clenching her teeth and digging her fingers into her cheek to hold it back. 

“Tyr.” Odin beckoned one of his guards. “Take Agent Romanoff to a different guest room. Make sure she’s safe and comfortable.” His gaze flickered over her. “Should I send for a healer?”

Natasha shook her head, still covering her mouth. 

Odin nodded to Tyr, and the guard stepped forward. “Come with me, my lady.” 

She shied away from him, but Tyr didn’t reach for her. He led her to the corridor, and Odin watched until they were out of sight. 

He hurried down another hallway. “Amora!” His voice echoed. “Amora, what did you do?”

There was a giggle from just behind him and Odin swiveled. 

“Just having a little fun, your majesty. ” She leaned against a wall, twisting a ringlet of golden hair around one finger. 

Odin glowered the enchantress. “Amora.” His tone held a warning, low and primal like the rattle of a snake.

“In vino veritas. Strip away the lies, the deceptions, the—” she looked him up and down, “illusions. And what’s left?” 

“Undo it.” 

Her lip curled into an appalled sneer. “Do you have any idea what it took me to craft a truth potion that wouldn’t change the taste of wine?” Amora sniffed. “Well, you probably do. You used to be a lot more fun.”

He mulled over her words and slowly licked his lips. The taste. His gaze lit up briefly and then turned cold. “Get out of my palace, witch.”

***

Tyr knocked on the door before opening it and bowed as Odin passed him. Natasha lay on her side on top of the blankets. 

“Forgive my disturbance,” Odin said softly; the door closed behind him. 

She shivered. Her dull eyes sharpened, focused on him.

He looked down at the cup in his hand. “I brought tea.”

Natasha struggled to slowly sit up. 

He inched closer. He felt a strange urge to put his hand over the mark on her cheek, to compare the length of his fingers or the breadth of his palm to the hand that had struck her. Bruises began to darken on her wrist. Those were fingerprints as well. “Tell me what happened,” the king commanded. 

“I left the party because I wasn’t feeling well.” Her voice rattled. “Bruce must have followed me to the room.” She drew a shaky breath. “He kissed me. He told me he wanted me.” She blinked and looked at Odin. “I don’t know why I tried to tell him that I didn’t feel the same way.”

“Was it the truth?” 

Natasha chuckled hollowly. “Yes, but he wasn’t meant to know that.” She scrunched her eyes closed. “It’s almost like being drunk. Uninhibited. The filter that makes you not say the things you shouldn’t say isn’t working.” She touched her lip lightly. 

“But regardless, you told him you didn’t want him.” The teacup radiated heat, the back of his finger reddened where it pressed against the side. 

“I tried to tell him, but he wasn’t listening. He kept fucking me and I kept saying things I never meant to say.”

“What kinds of things?” Odin’s voice wavered.

She closed her eyes. Her teeth pressed into the scab forming on her lower lip. 

He waited. Amora’s potion would compel her to speak the truth, he had only to wait.

“Stop.” When Natasha opened her eyes, they shimmered wetly. “It hurts.” She shuddered.

“This is for you.” He thrust the cup towards her. “Tea. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Please,” she whispered. A tear snuck down her cheek and landed in the cup. “I even said please.” She took a small sip of the tea and wrinkled her nose. “What’s in this?”

“It’ll help,” he insisted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully it's obvious enough, but Amora put a truth potion in the wine at the party, Loki (disguised as Odin) put an antidote in the tea


	4. Transcendent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce confesses (ain’t the truth a bitch) and Tony has feelings about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains discussions of sexual assault and rape which may be triggering to some readers

Bruce sighed and opened his eyes. He looked across the tangled blankets. He sat up. He was still mostly dressed. The events of the previous evening came flooding back. “Oh shit.” 

He pulled his pants up and searched the room for his shoes. He staggered into the hall and counted doors. He knocked on the third one. 

Tony opened the door, holding a sheet wrapped around his waist. 

“I need your help.”

He squinted at Bruce. “Wha-?”

“I did something,” Bruce swallowed; his gaze darted up and down the hall. “Bad. Something real bad.”

Tony shook his head and blinked sharply. “Do you need a doctor, a lawyer, a priest, or a shovel?” 

“Can I just talk to you? Privately? Please?”

Tony sighed. “Let me get dressed.”

He stumbled out a few minutes later, with his shirt unbuttoned and wrong side out. Bruce hurried across the hall to his room and Tony meandered behind. 

“Alright Bruce, what’s going on? What happened?” 

Bruce wrung his hands and began to pace. “Okay. Okay.” He exhaled through pursed lips. “I was with Natasha last night.” 

Tony stared at him. “I’ve had maybe two hours of sleep. This is not an emergency.”

“Just listen, please, because I really think I really screwed up.”

Tony fell into a chair in the corner. “Tell me.”

“We were, you know, having sex.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“She— uh, I-- she was trying to tell me something but I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen.” Bruce paced faster. “Then she pushed me and— and—“ he exhaled shakily. “I hit her.”

“What?” Tony leaned forward. His voice was soft, his brow furrowed, confusion settled over his features. 

Bruce closed his eyes. A deep line appeared between his eyebrows. The corners of his mouth stretched down. 

“Bruce, what happened? After you hit her?”

His eyes snapped open. “Nothing. I—we finished. I fell asleep. Woke up alone.” He shook his head. “I didn’t hit her hard. I just --”

“You just what?” Tony stood. A chill passed over him, raising goosebumps on his arms. “Why would she push you? What was she trying to tell you?”

Bruce looked at him. “Stop,” he whispered. He swallowed hard. “She wanted me to stop, but I didn’t want to, so I didn’t.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “I can’t help you.” He retreated one step. 

“I didn’t want to hurt her, I never meant for it to happen. You don’t understand.” His voice cracked. 

Tony shook his head. “I won’t help—“

“Tony, It felt—“ Bruce paused, searching for the right word. 

Tony held his breath.

“Incredible.”

The word fell like the stroke of an axe. 

“Transcendent,” Bruce continued, his voice cracking. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Like an addict chasing a fix.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never felt like that before. I dreamt about it. I want more.”

“You-“ he rasped. Tony shook his head and cleared his throat. “I won’t help you.”

“Please,” Bruce whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” Bruce called after him as Tony fled from the room, but he stayed.

Tony raced down the hall, bare feet slapping against the hard floors, and pounded on another door. “Agent Romanoff?” He knocked again. “Are you—“

Woke up alone. Bruce had said he woke up alone. 

Tony ran towards the throne room and nearly collided with one of the towering soldiers who flanked the entrance. “Where’s Romanoff?” He panted.

“I arranged alternate accommodations for her,” Odin answered. “It’s alright, Tyr, you can take him to her.”

The guard led Tony to another wing of the palace, moving aggravatingly slowly. He knocked sharply on an ornate door. 

Natasha opened it. 

Tony exhaled. 

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked. 

Tony stepped inside and closed the door. “You’re okay. Are you okay?”

She frowned in concern. “Are you?”

“It’s Banner.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. Her posture shifted ever so subtly. 

Tony took a deep breath. “He knocked on my door, all worked up. He said—“ Tony closed his eyes and swallowed, Bruce’s voice and face too clear in his memory. “He said he hurt you.”

“No, I’m fine,” her words came out clipped. “It was nothing.”

“He didn’t make it sound like nothing.” 

She pursed her lips.

“Maybe I could jettison him into space,” Tony offered. 

Natasha scoffed and shook her head. “He’s your friend.” She looked down at the floor. 

“You’re my friend.” He stared pointedly until she met his gaze. 

“It was just a disagreement,” she said. 

“Oh. What did you two disagree about?” He sat on the edge of the bed.

Natasha looked him over. “What did he say?” 

“He said you were fucking.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that.”

“He wanted to. You didn’t.”

She nodded. “Difference of opinion.” 

“And when you told him that, he hit you,” Tony continued. 

She brushed her fingertips over her cheek. The mark had faded. She’d checked before opening the door. “Not hard.”

“That’s not a difference of opinion. That’s not a disagreement.” Tony sighed. “I understand why you didn’t fight him, we both know how he gets when he’s angry, but that’s rape.” He stood up. 

“You think I don’t know that?”

“It’s not nothing.” 

“You weren’t there,” Natasha replied. “I - I felt off last night. Like I wasn’t fully in control of myself. Maybe, maybe he felt the same. Maybe it wasn’t really him.”

Tony frowned. He shuffled to the window and looked out at the Asgardian sunrise. “But maybe it was. What if he does it again?” 

Natasha was silent.

He looked over his shoulder “What if--” he turned to face her “he rapes you again?”

She sighed. “For argument’s sake, let’s say you do jettison him into space. What happens when the next big threat rolls up? The next Chitauri invasion? The next bunch of ice giants? The next catastrophe?” 

“I--”

“There’s a reason Fury put him on the team.” Natasha closed her eyes and shuddered. “And there’s a reason he put me on the team.”

“Lord Stark? Lady Romanoff?” A voice called through the door, followed by a brisk knock. “Breakfast!”

“It’s not nothing,” Tony uttered.

“It’s not a catastrophe,” Natasha replied as she opened the door. 

A raven-haired woman handed Tony a teacup. “That’s for you.”

“I drink espresso.”

She smiled thinly. “I don’t know what that is. Enjoy your tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author definitely forgot, until I was getting ready to post this chapter, that there was originally going to be a subplot about Tony and Steve confessing their feels for each other while under the influence. It was cut for pacing, but you can still imagine it's there if you want to.


	5. At What Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone pretends that everything is normal and fine

NEW YORK

Bruce squinted at the schematic. Tony watched him furrow his brow and walk around the hologram. 

“You know you can rotate the view,” he remarked. 

“You have to change this,” Bruce said, pointing to the base of the helmet. 

“Okay, what’s wrong with it?” 

“There’s a --” with a gesture Bruce expanded the view, “ridge here, the jawline. If Hulk can get his fingers in there, he’ll rip it off. That’s your head.” 

“Okay, good feedback.” Tony approached. “Edit mode.” 

The glowing white lines turned green. Tony reached into the air, carefully manipulating the threads of light. 

“It really can’t have a neck,” Bruce remarked. “That’s a weak point.” 

Tony nodded and continued to adjust the design. He stepped back and rubbed his chin. He glanced at Bruce. “The neck is what allows the head to move. That’s going to really limit my field of vision.”

“Only if you see with your eyes,” Bruce replied. 

“How else would I --” Tony winced. “Right, cameras. Jarvis, I’m going to need peripherals, plus above and below line of sight.” 

“Especially below,” Bruce added. “When you’re that tall, civilians are under your line of sight. You gotta look down for them or you’re gonna step on someone.” 

“Got that, J?” 

“Indeed sir.” 

“Alright.” Tony waved his fingers on either side of his head. “Mock it up for me.” A hologram of the helmet formed around his head. Tony moved his head, turning side to side, then nodding. “You can do better than that, Jarvis. Just give me a nice panorama.” He gestured to the space below his chin. “I want to see it when I look down.”

“Working on it, sir.” 

Tony went through the motions again, slower. 

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and observed. “Cameras at three meters elevation, screens on Tony,” he said. 

The hologram split in two, the exterior view of the helmet floating above Tony’s head, the interior view still cradling his face. 

“Oh that’s better. That’s kind of cool, actually.” Tony nodded. “Yeah.” He chuckled. “Except I can see myself, standing here like an idiot.” 

“Sorry, sir.”

“No, no, go back to that.” Tony touched the crown of his head. “At least my hair isn’t thinning.” 

Bruce snorted. “Tony, I gotta go.”

The holograms vanished. “Go where?” 

“I’m, uh, making dinner for Nat. We’re still working on the hypnosis.”

Tony’s jaw tightened. “Is that a good idea?”

Bruce ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the floor, scuffing his shoe over the tiles. “She’s still willing to help, and I need it.” He shrugged. “I need this to work. Check over all the joints for finger holds.” He nodded towards the overview of the armor, still active off to the side of their workspace. 

***

“The sun’s getting real low,” Natasha intoned quietly. 

Bruce drew a deep breath. Lines of green stretched through his irises. He held out his hand to her. The beds of his nails were green. His hand shook slightly.

“That’s good.” She gently put her hand under his. “You’re safe. You’re calm. You’re in control.” She pressed the center of his wrist, a handsbreadth from the base of his palm. “And you can wake up now.” She released his hand. 

He blinked slowly. The green faded. “How was that?”

“You tell me.”

“I feel really --” Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “Quiet. My mind is quiet.” He paused for a moment, as though listening. “That’s amazing. How did you --”

Natasha’s lips curled into a sphinx’s smile. “Better than the last attempt?” 

“I didn’t feel any different last time. This is … progress.”

***

“We have to be able to trust each other.” Steve glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye. “We have to function as a team, not just individually.”

“That’s a nice idea in theory, but there’s no safe way--” Bruce began.

“We could fight the Iron Legion,” Tony offered. “Plenty of them to go around. I’ve been busy.”

“I was thinking more of collateral damage,” Bruce replied.

“We can use one of S.I.’s weapons’ testing sites,” Tony countered.

“You want another look at the big guy in action,” Natasha observed.

“And you don’t?” Tony popped a candied almond in his mouth. “I think we even have a couple little islands to play on.”

“A couple private islands? Seriously?” Clint gawked.

“Little ones.”

“You’re not considering opening a theme park on one, are you?” Clint remarked. 

Tony just chuckled in response.

“Which still doesn’t address my concerns about one of you getting hurt,” Bruce replied.

“He didn’t hurt anyone in the battle against Loki’s army,” Steve observed. “He even saved Tony.”

“And he did a great job with those jotun thingies,” Clint added.

“Does everyone on this team have a death wish?” Bruce asked.

“We could mock up programming for the new suit.” Tony grinned.

“And now we find out what this is really about,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“No,” Tony objected. “It’s about teamwork.”

“You know what,” Steve proclaimed, “I don’t care about Stark’s motivations on this. It’s a good idea and I think we should take any opportunity to practice together.”

“And when you’re done practicing? How much of your island can you afford to have destroyed?” Bruce asked. “Hulk doesn’t stand down.”

“You won’t know unless you try,” Natasha replied.

“The lullaby isn’t ready for testing,” Bruce objected.

“Lullaby?” Tony scrunched up his nose.

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t know how much more ready we can be.”

***

Tony knocked lightly. 

“It’s open,” Natasha shouted. 

He let himself into the apartment. 

Natasha sat on the plush, wine-colored rug, surrounded by weapons. 

“Packing?” Tony asked.

“Prioritizing. I don’t need to take everything to the island, especially for a training exercise.” 

Tony nodded. “You do a good job of pretending everything’s fine.”

“Lifetime of practice.” She picked up a pistol and cleared the chamber. 

Tony sighed. 

Natasha set the weapon aside and stood up. “Everything is fine.”

“I’ve never met anyone else who lies more easily than they tell the truth.”

She snorted. “Of course you have. You’ve met Fury, you’ve met Barton. You met Coulson, rest his soul. I’m not an anomaly. Everyone at SHIELD has an on-again off-again relationship with the truth.” 

He frowned, scrunching his face unhappily. 

“Maybe,” she admitted, “maybe I lie to myself more than the rest of them do.” She shrugged. “You seem like you’re doing a pretty good job yourself.”

“Lifetime of practice.” He scanned her collection of weapons. “Let me know if you want any upgrades.” 

***

JARVIS ISLAND*  
Fighting Tony’s drones was actually fun. He had been careful not to make them look like Iron Man or War Machine, and they didn’t have live ammunition. He’d armed them with what he called marker rounds, pellets that stung a bit and left a ring of colored powder upon impact. They’d be able to see where they’d been hit, but no one was in any danger. As far as team tactics went, it was mainly Hulk smashing anything he could reach while the others worked around him. Tony recorded the entire affair for review. Clint and Natasha worked brilliantly together, seemingly needing neither words nor gestures to communicate intent, but every time Tony fired a repulsor, it glanced off Steve’s shield. Every time Steve threw his shield, Tony’s blasts prevented it from rebounding to his hand.

The Iron Legion’s numbers dwindled until Tony called a halt. “I think we can say we were victorious.”

“Moment of truth,” Clint said. “Go get him.”

Natasha approached Hulk slowly. “Hey there, big guy.” He turned on her with a growl. “Sun’s getting real low.” She held up her hand and reminded herself to keep breathing. He reached toward her hesitantly.

Tony set about the task of cleaning up the drones. As he approached one damaged unit, the weapon discharged.

Hulk’s hand closed around Natasha’s arm as he wheeled towards the sound of gunfire. 

She stumbled forward. “Ugh!” She cried out, her other hand going to her shoulder. Hulk released her, stalking towards the drone. Tony quickly moved out of the way.

Hulk picked it up, the torso crumpled like aluminum foil in his fist.

Clint dropped from a bit of scaffolding Tony had positioned as a mock building.

“Stay back!” Natasha yelled, grimacing at Barton. 

Hulk turned and snarled at her shout. 

She straightened her posture. Her voice dropped back to the quiet, calm tone. She pulled something out of a pouch on her belt. “Come on, it’s time, big guy.” She shook the little packet. The contents rattled and the paper crinkled. 

Hulk dropped the drone.

“The sun’s getting low.”

Hulk shuffled forward and held his hand out. Natasha tore the pack open with her teeth and dumped the contents into his palm. He shoved the candies into his mouth and thrust his empty hand back towards Natasha. She tapped the pressure point on his wrist and trailed her fingers down his arm.

Hulk yawned and staggered. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and stumbled. He dropped to one knee. Natasha walked backwards to Clint’s position.

Hulk yawned again.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Clint whispered.

“It’s just dislocated. Pop it back in,” Natasha answered under her breath, watching the big guy.

Clint sandwiched her injured shoulder between his hands gently. “Yeah, I feel it.”

“Before Banner comes around.”

Hulk was shrinking, his skin changing hues. 

Clint gently grasped her arm, pressing against her shoulder with his other hand. “Deep breath,” he coached. He closed his eyes as he lifted her arm, focused on how her shoulder felt beneath his hand.

It slid back into place with a pop. Natasha gasped. She leaned against Clint for a moment.

Steve delivered Bruce’s backpack. 

“So… it worked?” Bruce asked, pulling on his boxers.

“Worked great,” Natasha answered before anyone else could. “Like a charm.”

“Good. I am exhausted.”

***

Natasha was icing her shoulder in her room when Bruce let himself in.

“You look angry,” she observed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The lullaby worked great,” Natasha insisted.

“I broke your damn arm!” Bruce exclaimed. “This was such a stupid idea. How could I be such an idiot?”

“The gunshots startled him. It was a brilliant idea, and it worked.”

“At what price?”

“The price of a dislocated shoulder,” Natasha answered. “Not my first, either.” 

“It could’ve been your neck.”

“It wasn’t. It’ll take Tony a few days to get enough of the Iron Legion up and running for another combat. You and I should practice in the meantime.”

“Natasha…”

“Bruce, it worked. He stopped. He listened. He gave me his hand. He gave you back control. It was everything we hoped for.”

“I told you not to get close enough to touch.” He shook his head. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine. It’s fine. Ice and ibuprofen and everything is fine.”

“Could I take a look?” 

Natasha unzipped her suit and eased it off her shoulder, baring part of her chest and half a plain grey bra. 

“There’s some bruising,” he murmured. He touched her skin and quickly pulled his hand back. “You’re cold!”

“Gee, I wonder why.” She waved the ice pack at him.

Bruce rubbed his hands together and pressed on the top of her shoulder. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” She shook her head. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s swelling. Normal range of movement?”

“It’s just a little sore.” She bowed her head, staring at the floor.

“It could have been so much worse,” Bruce whispered. 

“I know. But it wasn’t.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. He found the little metal tab and pulled her zipper down the rest of the way. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of her shoulder. He eased the suit down off her arms. 

Natasha let him undress her. She lay back and let his hungry kisses devour her. She stared at the ceiling, the swirls of plaster, white on white. She let her gaze unfocus. She disconnected. 

***

FLASHBACK  
“I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option,” Fury said. 

Natasha stood with her arms folded over her chest, feet shoulder width apart, her expression completely neutral. 

It could be worse,” he continued. “The council wanted Blonsky.”

Natasha raised one eyebrow. 

“At least Banner won’t treat you like a whore.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re treating me like a whore. He’d be a john, and you’re—“ she stopped when she saw his expression. She braced for a strike. 

He slumped in his chair instead. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Natasha replied. 

He frowned at her, confused. 

“We don’t have any other option.” She shrugged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter was lifted from things I’d written a while back and repurposed. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed everything before Age of Ultron. It’s my favorite era. 
> 
> *Jarvis Island is a real place, but it’s a wildlife preserve and honestly too small for Tony. But I saw the name and couldn’t resist


	6. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony works hard, The Avengers get a lead on the location of Loki’s scepter, and Bruce has a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Brief non-con/non-con reference
> 
> 2\. This is where we begin to overlap with Avengers: Age of Ultron. I’m not about to recap the whole movie when the only really significant difference is the relationship between Bruce and Natasha (and to a lesser extent the relationship between Bruce and Tony)

JARVIS ISLAND  
“We won’t have the big guy for our next run,” Tony announced. “Bruce asked for a break, but I think we all know how Hulk behaves in combat. Stay out of his way, and try to keep him between you and anything bigger than you. Let’s recap yesterday’s fight. Cap, you got shot fourteen times,” Tony stated. 

“It wasn’t my best day,” Steve admitted. He stood and Tony took a seat.

“So why don’t you lecture us on what we did wrong,” Tony muttered. 

“We all need to do a better job of watching each other’s backs. We didn’t even have civilians to worry about, so--”

“I can’t believe you bribed Hulk with candy,” Tony whispered to Natasha. 

“If it’s ridiculous and it works, it’s not ridiculous.” She kept her eyes on Steve, studiously listening as he talked tactics and teamwork. 

***  
NEW YORK (A FEW WEEKS LATER)  
“How’s the lab?” Tony asked, taking a drink.

“It’s amazing, Tony. Thank you.” Bruce glanced at the clock. “Is that coffee? What time is it there?”

“Time is a construct, did you look at the schematics I sent over?”

Bruce looked at his screen and pulled up the new plans. “Yeah, yeah. I was thinking about maybe a name for it.”

“What were you thinking?” Tony asked.

“Veronica?”

Tony switched to his keyboard. He highlighted the project name: Best Offense Response Interface Suit, and began typing over it. “You got it. So that’s a go-ahead on the build?”

“Make it a reality.” Bruce yawned. “How’s Ultron coming?”

“I found a bug and patched it, so now there’s eight more bugs.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This code is going to be the death of me.” 

“Only eight? I think I’m going to turn in soon, if you want me to look at the code in the morning, just send it over.” 

“Yeah. Good night, Bruce.”

***  
THE LAB 

Copper curls fanned out on the crisp white pillow case. 

She cried out as he slammed into her. “Oh!”

Her legs wrapped around his hips. He pinned both her wrists above her head. Her breasts bounced as he pounded her. 

“Please.” A tear streaked over the bright pink handprint on her cheek. 

He fucked her harder. 

She whimpered. “You’re hurting me. Stop. Please.”

“Louder, Nat,” he growled. “Scream it.”

“Please!”

Bruce opened his eyes, gasping. Alone in the quiet dark. He groaned softly. He reached beneath the sheet. He was painfully hard, precum oozing from the slit. He stroked himself and began to pant. He closed his eyes. He could see the handprint on her cheek. He could almost feel her, twitching around him as she struggled. 

He moaned. His hand moved faster. 

***  
NEW YORK

“Call Banner,” Steve commanded, “we’ve got something.”

“What kind of something?” Tony asked.

“Loki’s scepter. At a Hydra base in Sokovia—“

“Is that a real place?” Tony interjected. “It sounds made up.”

“How about you do the science and I do the geography? We’ve got to move fast. If they find out we’re coming, they’ll move the scepter.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’ll call him.” 

***

Tony lingered in the doorway a minute. He watched Natasha swat Barton with the backside of a spoon as he tried to taste whatever was on the stove. 

Clint spotted him. “Steve’s making dinner and they won’t let me help!” he complained. 

“You helping looks a lot like you getting in the way,” Tony remarked as he came into the kitchen. 

“Set the table, you absolute child,” Natasha said. 

“No, I do quality control,” Clint insisted. “Steve doesn’t season anything.”

Natasha gave Steve a little head tilt. “Is salt a seasoning?” Her teeth flashed white as she smiled. 

Steve glared at her while suppressing a grin of his own. “If you don’t like it, make something yourself or go to bed hungry.”

“Bold of you to assume I go to bed.” Clint gave the captain a defiant look, but began setting the table. 

Steve wanted to discuss strategies for hitting the Hydra base, but with two members of the team missing and the other three being silly, it seemed like a waste. He relaxed into the camaraderie instead. After they had eaten, Steve started clearing the table, but Natasha got in his way and glared.

“Stop that. You cooked, I can clean up.”

“Me too,” Clint added.

“You did quality control, Barton,” Tony said, patting Clint’s shoulder. “I’ll help with the dishes.”

Steve and Clint left, and Tony began stacking plates. 

Natasha filled the sink. “I assumed that you paid for the groceries because you didn’t want to work in the kitchen,” she teased. 

“You’re not wrong.” He looked at her and his expression became somber. “Bruce will be here in the morning.”

She turned on the garbage disposal. They both winced at the harsh grinding noise. She flipped it off. “It’ll be nice to have the whole team together.”

***

SOKOVIA

“Hey,” Natasha called. 

Hulk huffed at her and growled deep in his chest. “No.” He shuffled back a step. 

“It’s just me. It’s okay.” She smiled and showed him her empty hands. 

Hulk reached one hand across his chest and grasped his shoulder. “Hurt.”

“You’re hurt?” Concern sharpened her voice.

He shook his head. “No.” He pointed to her shoulder. “Hulk hurt friend arm.”

Her eyes widened. “You remember that. It’s okay.” She rolled her shoulder and lifted her arm. “It’s not hurt anymore, see?”

“Hulk sorry.” He hunched down. 

“I accept your apology. I forgive you.” She held out her hand. 

Hulk gave a tiny nod.

“The sun’s getting real low.” 

He put his hand in hers.

***

NEW YORK

Natasha grabbed two bottles off the shelves and set about making a martini. There was a ritual to mixing and pouring drinks. She appreciated the process. She stirred and strained and added a lemon twist. “You want one?” She asked when she noticed Bruce. 

“No thanks. So the lullaby, it really went off without a hitch this time?” 

Natasha smiled. “We’re developing a rapport: me and the big guy.” 

“Don’t get too cozy with him. He’s still dangerous.” 

She shook her head softly. “He’s not what everyone thinks he is.”

“He’s a monster, even Loki recognized that,” Bruce said coldly. 

“He apologized for hurting my arm. He understood that he had done harm, Bruce. He felt guilt; he expressed remorse. There are men who aren’t capable of that.” She took a sip of her drink and walked away.

Bruce watched her go. Something in her words nettled him. The way she’d cut her eyes at him when she said men.  
***


	7. Age of Ultron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lines are drawn, crossed, and redrawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violent sexual assault. You can skip the sections between "IOWA" and "SOKOVIA" if you don't wish to read it.

Their first encounter with Ultron had been disastrous. The second was worse. Wanda Maximoff was nothing the Avengers had ever encountered before, nothing they had or could prepare for. She ripped through their minds like a battery of hurricanes, and sent them running for cover. 

***

IOWA

“I didn’t realize you were waiting.” Bruce tucked the corner of the towel into the edge at his waist. 

“I’m sorry about Johannesburg,” Natasha said. “If I’d been able to do the lullaby—“

Bruce shook his head. “That wasn’t a normal incident. He nearly killed Tony, and he likes Tony.”

“Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

“I like you.” He brushed her hair off her cheek and stroked her jaw. His hand cupped behind her ear as he pulled her into a kiss. He fumbled with the knot on her robe.

The vision was fresh in her mind, and all she wanted was a shower. To wash the fingerprints off her skin. She stepped back. “Bruce, I don’t think I can do this right now.” Her voice shook. 

“Oh,” he said softly.

He let go of the belt and let the ends swing free. She held the robe closed. 

He shuffled to the side, putting himself between her and the door. He looked at her.

Natasha was pale. Her eyes seemed sad and tired. Her hand trembled where she clutched the robe. 

His stomach knotted. “I can.” He shoved her and she staggered back, crashing into the bathroom door. 

She grimaced as the doorknob hit her back. “Bruce!”

He yanked the robe, stitches popped and the fabric tore. 

“Don’t!” Natasha hit him across the jaw, and his head snapped back. She punched him in the ribs. Bruce doubled over. She started to slip past him, but his arms wrapped around her. His towel fell to the floor and he kicked it away. He pushed her into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind them. 

“Bruce, don’t!”

“Natasha, I need you.” He locked the door. 

Natasha shook her head. “P-please.” Her eyes darted over the vanity for anything to use as a weapon.

His eyes glittered coldly. He grabbed her arm. She slapped him, then her head hit the wall as he wrestled her to the floor. Bruce bent her over the edge of the tub and turned on the water. He knelt behind her, pressing his leg between hers.   
Natasha twisted and squirmed. 

Bruce growled and pushed her face into the running water. As she thrashed, he forced into her with a grunt. 

Pain split through her. She cried out, inhaled water, and began to cough. “Stop,” she sputtered. She reached back and clawed at him. 

His fingers closed around her wrist. He wrenched her arm behind her back. He thrust hard, quickly gathering steam, and gripped her hip with his other hand. 

“Fuck,” he panted. “That’s so good.” 

Her wet hair clung to her face, covering her eyes and sending rivulets of water into her nose and mouth. The water tasted the way rust smells. Her shoulder strained as she struggled. The edge of the bathtub gutted her, pressing in unforgivingly. His fingers bruised her arm and her hip. Her muted cry was lost in the roar of the water. 

She felt him release, flooding her with his seed.

Bruce let go of her arm and put both hands on her hips. His cock twitched inside her. He gasped softly. A silent sob wracked her body. Bruce let out a trembling sigh and slowly withdrew as he began to soften. “Oh, shit, I—,” he whispered.  
He stood and stumbled back a step, bumping into the sink. “I didn’t -- “

Natasha sank onto the floor and looked at him. She cradled her arm to her chest, rubbing her shoulder. “Please just leave.”

***

Natasha climbed into the tub and pulled the diverter up. The cold spray of the shower hit her. She grabbed the soap and began to scrub. Anywhere he had touched her. Her wrist where bruises were beginning to form. Her hips. Her inner thighs where his fluid had seeped out, sticky. The side of her neck where his touch had been gentle when he kissed her. She turned the water off and sat on the porcelain. 

She sat until her skin had dried in the warm air. Her muscles were stiff when she stood and carefully climbed out of the bathtub. She stared at her reflection. She took a deep breath. 

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. When she was done, she looked the part of the Black Widow. She’d fought the Ultron-possessed Iron Legion twice in as many days. She’d had her mind tampered with by an enhanced individual. She had ready excuses if she missed a cue or forgot a line. And her audience was waiting. She headed downstairs.

***

The boys were gathered at the kitchen table, minus Thor but plus Fury. Bruce didn’t look at Natasha when she came in. None of them really looked at her, but Bruce seemed to quite pointedly avoid her. 

She avoided looking at him and focused on keeping up with the conversation. Two geniuses, Nick Fury, and Captain America left her feeling a bit out of her depth. 

Light banter. Pertinent questions. 

When Fury offered to take Bruce back to the tower, a palpable sense of relief washed over her. He would be in New York. She’d be in Seoul with Clint and Steve. 

As they split from the table, Fury gestured her towards the porch. She followed. 

“Sir?” 

“Everything all right? Barton told me about your encounter with the Maximoff girl.” Fury tilted his head slightly, examining her expression. 

“Fine,” Natasha replied. “She’s very powerful. At least now we know what we’re dealing with.” 

“He said she really got to you.”

“I’m fine,” Natasha insisted. 

“If Ultron is in Seoul, the twins are with him,” Fury pointed out. “You might be better off in New—“

“No.” 

Fury frowned. Natasha cursed inwardly. 

“You need me in Seoul. Thor and Banner are off the docket. Stark has given himself an alternate assignment. That only leaves Barton, Rogers, and me. Against the Maximoffs and who knows how many Ultron units.” Natasha held her breath. There was more than enough truth in her statement. There was nothing for the director to doubt. 

“Well, be careful. If the scepter is there too…”

“We’ll get it.” She forced a smile.

***

SOKOVIA

Seoul had been less of a disaster. She’d seen the quinjet leave with the cradle, and trusted Clint to deal with it. Her own capture was a minor concern. 

Ultron was undoubtedly the creation of Tony Stark. He loved the sound of his own voice. Natasha tuned out his monologue and quietly tapped out morse code. Barton would find her. This was the closest thing she’d had to a vacation in six years and if the cell had a view, she might’ve just stayed. Except, of course, that there was an evil robot trying to destroy humanity. 

“Natasha!” 

That wasn’t Barton. She sank to the back of the small cell. 

Bruce was already changing, growing, turning green. By the time he reached the cell, it was Hulk who stood in his place. Thick green fingers reached through the door and yanked it off the hinges. 

“Thanks,” Natasha said. 

Hulk’s brow furrowed. His lips curled and twitched. “H-hulk sorry.”

She looked at him. “Huh?”

“Banner hurt friend,” Hulk’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Natasha’s eyes widened as a chill swept over her. “You— you know what he did?”

“Hulk sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for him. You’re better than that.” 

He looked down at the ground, shoulders slumped. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” She approached him. 

“Hulk help,” he said. “Hulk protect.” 

She took a step back, tense, as he reached toward her. His finger pointed to the holster on her thigh. Then he pointed towards himself, pressed the tip of his index finger to the center of his forehead. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Bang.” He opened his eyes and lowered his hand. “No Banner. Only Hulk. Hulk protect.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. You wanna smash some robots?”

Hulk smiled. “Hulk smash.” 

***

“Hey, big guy.” Natasha looked into the camera. “We did it. Job’s finished. So, um —“

He came to the screen. He rumbled. 

Natasha glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you.” 

He turned it off. 

She drew a deep breath and went to find the others. 

“You alright?” Natasha put her hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“He’s not going to make it.” Clint stared at Pietro. “He’s—“

“Full of surprises, and not dead yet.” She squeezed gently. 

Clint sighed heavily. “He saved my life.”

“Somebody had to.” 

***

NEW YORK

“One of our tech guys brought me this,” Fury said, shaking Natasha from her thoughts. “Splashed down in the Banda sea. Could be the quinjet, but with Stark’s stealth technology, even we can’t track the damn thing.” 

“Right,” Natasha said. 

“You don’t want to go check it out?” Fury asked. 

She pursed her lips. “If you’re giving me a mission, I’ll go. I always do.” 

Fury’s frown deepened. “Agent Romanoff?”

“You were wrong,” she stated. “About Banner. The mission’s over, status: failed.”

“Natasha.”

“I’ll have the report on your desk next week and await my next assignment.”

Fury chuckled. “This is your next assignment.”

She glared at him.

“Not the crash site.” He gestured to the building around them. “This. The Compound. You’re an Avenger.”

Her posture softened. “Th-thank you.”

“I’d still like that report on your work with Banner. Mission status tee bee dee.”

She nodded.

***

“Do you know where he is?” 

“Hoffa?” Tony asked.

Natasha sighed softly. “Banner.”

He shrugged. “Could be anywhere. You guys need to keep better track of those jets.”

“You were right.”

Tony froze for a moment. “Well, there’s something you don’t hear everyday.” He walked to the bar. “Drink?”

“Yes please.” She stood and watched him pour two glasses of whiskey. The good stuff. Always the good stuff when Tony was pouring. “We labeled the wrong side of him as the monster.”

He took a deep swallow as he handed her the other glass. “He’s at the lab.” 

“You’re sure?” Natasha sipped the whiskey.

“Live security feed.” He slipped on a pair of glasses. “He’s mostly been sleeping. I’ll get a heads up if he leaves.” He pulled the glasses off and tossed them aside. “It’s remote enough that we’ll have time to react.”

She nodded.

“You all right?”

“Of course. Always.” She flashed him a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“If he does leave the lab, I’ve modified the algorithm we used to locate the tesseract. He has a unique gamma signature of his own. Friday will automatically start tracking him via that.” Tony finished his drink and began pouring another.  
“You put some thought into this.” 

He sighed and set the bottle down with a heavy thud. “When all that bullshit went down with Hammer and Vanko and, uh—“ he touched the center of his chest. “You know. You saved my life. I haven’t forgotten.”

She raised an eyebrow and her glass.

“You also saved Rhodey. And you managed to keep Happy and Pepper out of harm’s way. Which is more than I can usually do.”

Natasha shook her head. “You’re not doing this because you think you owe me.”

“I’m not?”

She took a drink and smiled. “You’re my friend.”

“Aww,” Tony clicked his tongue. “Whiskey makes you sentimental.”   
***

EPILOGUE: THE LAB

Trembling hands sought purchase on the clammy porcelain, trying to steady him as he struggled to his feet. He staggered to the counter and wiped the steam off the mirror. His gaunt reflection stared back. Cadaverous, waxy skin hung off his skull. He curled back his blistered lips, peering at his teeth. His tongue probed a fresh vacancy just behind the bottom left canine. He met the reflection’s haunted gaze and began to laugh. 

His eyes were a shade of green reminiscent of the sky during a tornado. His laugh was deeper than it had ever been.

“Idiot.” His voice was raw. “Imbecile.” He leaned in until his breath fogged the glass. “You absolute moron. Seven fucking PhDs, and for what? Years wasted, trying to kill the Hulk.” He rested his forehead on the mirror as tremors wracked his body. He steadied himself and looked up again. “We have to kill Banner.”

He balled up his fist and smashed it into the reflection’s face.


End file.
